


Experiments on Distraction

by Dulcidyne



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcidyne/pseuds/Dulcidyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working off steam is one thing, what Shepard isn't great at are the conversations that go with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiments on Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> How I cheer myself up after the angst-fest that is my other ongoing fic--slightly smutty ficlets :D This is the first of a series that takes place during the interim between defeating the Collectors and Aratoht, dealing a bit with FShep/Garrus relationship progress and what seemed to be some poor communication outside of 'blowing off steam' and some unresolved Cerberus business.

Shepard eyed her glass with disgust before downing its vivid pink contents in a single gulp. Getting completely and totally smashed was more difficult than she'd anticipated. Apparently liver efficiency was part of the Cerberus upgrade package. The pink stuff itself wasn’t much help either. She was partially convinced that it was candy-flavored water deviously disguised by the asari as alcohol.

“Should you really be drinking with your concussion?”

Her hand, already reaching for the bottle, stilled as her lips instinctively drew into a slow smile, “That was more of a medical suggestion than anything.”

“I’m sure Chakwas would beg to differ.”

Shepard poured herself another shot, “This is experimental. Call it professional curiosity.”

He stepped closer to the bar and she could feel the air around them converge into strange, heavy currents pulling them closer, pushing them away. The slightest movement and they would be carried away into some unfathomable undertow that would forever define what it was exactly between them now that highly probable death and impossible odds were behind them.

She grimaced at her glass. Apparently she was not immune to insulin-spike-induced gloom.

"Your commitment to science is admirable."

Shepard favored him with a grim smile before pouring him a glass of something that looked and smelled aggressively lavender. Garrus leaned against the bar top and gave the glass a dubious glance.

“Interesting choice.”

"It's all we have."

Garrus balked, "This bar was fully stocked the day before yesterday."

“Mmhmm.” Shepard glared at the offensive pink cylinder as if it was somehow to blame for being left behind, “While we were stuck in the med bay. You can blame Grunt for drinking all the good dextro stuff. Apparently, allergic reactions only prove his Krogan prowess"

He only chuckled, sipping the dregs of the dextro reserves with leisurely calm, "Well that explains why his head was looking bigger than normal."

Snorting into her drink, Shepard caught his amused eye and felt something twist in her chest as the easy humor between them began to drift into treacherous eddies of recycled air. She could almost taste the memory of his mouth brushing against hers; amber pine resin and the sharp bouquet of cheap wine in one warm, metallic exhale across her lips. Heat flared through her neck and she looked down to chase the memory away with a gulp of liquid sweetener.

The fact was: she was terrible at this. Flirting, fine. She was a more than capable flirt, as some  aboard the ship could definitely attest. ‘Blowing off steam’, great. But this…

Garrus cleared his throat, shifting beside her.  He seemed to be waiting for her to speak but  the words were expanding in her throat, squeezing her vocal chords shut.

She cursed her new immunity to liquid courage. How was it that being crazy about someone suddenly made her into a complete coward? Maybe if this weren’t a new level of crazy, maybe if she couldn’t still feel the dull edge of his neatly trimmed talon pressing against her thigh, or the look of intense concentration on his face as he traced a path over her skin with his hands. She had seen that look on him before, but something about seeing him so intent on _her_ left her trembling in his hands.

How bad could it end up, really? She glanced over at him.

“Commander.”

Thank God. She exhaled slowly, letting her nerves settle, “Yes EDI?”

“Commander, we will reach Illium in approximately 35 minutes.”

“Thank you EDI.”

Shepard set her half-filled glass on the bartop, abandoning it.

“Was the experiment a success?” he asked.

“Inconclusive…”

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Turians didn’t really kiss, she knew. They had something close, something that made her lips heavy and swollen as if he had thoroughly kissed them instead of gently brushing against them with the pliant plating around his mouth. What little she had managed to read on the topic insinuated that tongue in mouth contact was a bit...unusual in the kind of way that made it a niche fetish in turian porn. Not that human/turian sex was all that usual. But it just seemed considerate to keep the unusualness to a minimum.

His brow plates had shifted upward as he waited for her to continue.

“I think I need a larger…”

She stopped, mind blank. Maybe her concussion was more serious than she thought.

“Sample size?” he supplied, mandibles flaring out in a distinctly teasing grin.

“I have a concussion.” she reminded him.

“Right, like I said, not sure you’re supposed to mix those with liquor. At least, if humans are anything like turians.”

Concussion or no, getting blind drunk after a high-stakes mission was a tradition practically revered as much as Christmas in her book. And to accomplish that, she needed the big guns. She needed a fully-stocked bar. But more than that, she needed...

“I’ve noted your concern and I have a solution.” she leaned forward, plucking his half-finished drink from his hand.

Something changed in his expression, his eyes vivid and intense as she slid her other hand against his cowl, pulling herself close enough to him that she could smell the sharp woodsy scent lingering on his skin. He slipped his now unoccupied hand around her hip, hesitating a moment before spanning her waist through the fabric of her uniform. She had read all about the turian thing for waists, but even if she hadn’t, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes.

“What’s your solution?” his voice was low and quiet, audible only in the centimeters between them. Desire thrummed in his subtonals, resonating in her bones, sending a tremor up her spine.

She knew she should tell him. It was more than stress relief for her, more than sex, more than friendship. But first, it couldn’t hurt to stop by her cabin, could it? All the serious stuff she was so terrible at could wait. Besides, it would be much easier after she relaxed.

Her smile was all impish seduction, “Distraction.”

It still felt a bit like cowardice. But by the time they made it up to the elevator, she didn’t really care.

 


End file.
